


TG or TGIF

by QuasiDreamer



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Ghosts, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:19:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7556311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuasiDreamer/pseuds/QuasiDreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain tour guide visits the Ghostbusters, and Kevin can’t figure out his name, or much else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TG or TGIF

**Author's Note:**

> Yup. I also ship Erin Gilbert/Jillian Holtzmann. But everyone’s writing about them, and I’m a rebel.

“I’m here to speak to one of—well, them,” said a voice. Kevin looked up from the new pictures of his headshots to the man to his left. 

“Them?” Kevin asked and adjusted his glasses. The man was tall, possible taller than him but not as tall as Patty, and his hair was darker than Abby’s had been pre-ghostportal thing. 

“Yes,” said the man, moving to stand in front of Kevin’s desk. “I’m one of their, um, clients. I guess.”

“You guess,” Kevin repeated, smiling. He leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrests. 

“Uh…have we met before?” the man asked, fidgeting. He reminded Kevin of a frail ostrich, but with jollyrancher blue eyes and a funeral suit. And no feathers or beak, and more hair too. And longer legs. Maybe more like a weirdly attractive spider? But with less eyes. 

“Sure,” Kevin kept his smile. He hoped if he played along it’d be true. The man in front of him did seem familiar, perhaps from one of the modeling agencies? Or was he a former fellow model he had a shoot with? Or maybe they once lived in the same shabby place at one point or another? 

And then the flashback hit him; dead guy, Rowan, possessing him. Dead guy, Rowan, making him do and say things. Dead guy, Rowan, and his memories of setting up those machines around the Ley lines—or maybe they were Leslie lines, or Liza Minnelli lines. Dead guy, Rowan, going on a tour at some creepy mansion with this tour guide guy leading the way. 

Kevin’s smile fell.

“I’ll be back,” he said abruptly and rose. He tripped on the stairs up, making an echo throughout the firehouse. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“I need a shower with lava soap,” Erin declared as she climbed out of the newly painted hearse. They were back from that tour guide’s mansion. Apparently more weird stuff had gone down, or something. Kevin wasn’t sure. 

“The Proton packs held up well, considering the vast amounts of Class IIs,” Jillian added from the other side. Abby and Patty followed suit. They were all covered in that gross snot-stuff ghosts left behind. Kevin wondered if he should call them by their first or last names, as for last names he knew it’d be Gilbert, Yates, Tolan, and Holtzmann. Kevin was never sure, so he alternated between the two. Sometimes he avoided saying names all together. 

“Hello,” Kevin said from his desk, waving with both hands. “How was it?”

“Jeez, how do you think it went?” Abby asked as the others passed by his desk. Erin reached out and plucked something of his shoulder, but didn’t stop to say what as Holtzmann began snickering. Kevin smiled and waited. He really wasn’t sure how it went. 

“Fine, Kevin, it went fine,” Abby said and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Any calls—oh, who am I _kidding_? I need some dumplings,” she said and followed the others upstairs. Kevin blinked and watched over his shoulder as they disappeared. 

He turned back to his desk, to the phone. There hadn’t been any calls, but he was going to make one. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“And if you turn this way,” the tour guide continued. “I bring you to our giftshop. Those of you with student ID’s get a 10% discount and we have a senior discount for those over 65. Thank you and we deeply hope you enjoyed your tour of the Aldridge mansion.”

They were both taller than anyone in the group. Continuously, Kevin had been trying to get the guy’s attention; purposely pushing things over, making jokes, continuously tripping—though he didn’t mean to do the last bit. He did trip often. He used to think it was because his ears were full, but he only got sinus infections every once in a while. 

“Thank you all very much,” the tour guide said with a polite smile. He held an arm out to where the tiny giftshop was located. Kevin smiled as well and walked right up to him as the last of the people gathered in the small corner.

“So, you’re the mate that gives tours?” he asked, grinning. “You were pretty good. I called earlier and they said there was one last tour for the day,” he said and looked back at the larger room with the painting of some lady. She looked familiar too. “A lot of pictures in there, hm? She looks nice,” Kevin said. 

“Just what the hell is _wrong_ with you?” the tour guide quietly snapped, motioning him out of the larger room and into the hallway. “You ‘accidentally shattered three irreplaceable vases, made jokes about your dog’s chew toys while I talked about people being murdered up, and purposely tripped every five minutes! What do you want? You’re not a Ghostbuster, you’re their—their receptionist!” he hissed. 

Kevin continued to smile as he crowded the tour guide. He noted the tour guide smelled good—something old-fashioned, like a grandfather. 

“Actually, I’m Kevin. I answer the phones and take messages, but I assure you I am a Ghostbuster, mate.”

“That’s _literally_ all a receptionist does, answer the phone and take messages, and you couldn’t even do that right the first five times I called,” the tour guide said. His back was barely touching the hallway wall behind him. “And, oh, I’m the Aldridge mansion tour guide, nice to meet you, _Kevin_.” 

Kevin noted he was getting angrier. 

“So…is TG your nickname, as in tour guide? Or TGIF?” Kevin asked, cocking his head to the side. “Do you work at a restaurant too?” His back was on the wall now, chin jutting out. His eyes were really blue. Now they reminded Kevin of his favorite slushie. 

“TGIF is a good place for drinks, but I’m fonder of slushies.” 

“God, you’re stupid,” the tour guide said and crashed their lips together. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The mansion was long deserted of staff. Garrett said he was one of several employees, but the only tour guide for that Friday. That’s why he pushed Kevin into the employee lounge, or so he said; everyone was gone for the weekend and the night janitors were still too spooked. The only reason Garrett had come back was the pay raise. He said his boss wouldn’t stop making fun of his pants or something. 

“Garrett, your name is seriously Garrett?” Kevin asked from where he sat sprawled. “That’s cool. What’s the ‘T’ for then?” 

“Just stop, Kevin,” Garrett said from between his legs. To be fair, he was giving an excellent blowjob, and as confused as he was, Kevin knew better. He laid his head back on the employee couch and shifted, sinking lower. Cock out, pants unzipped. It was really, really hot. Garrett’s head began bobbing up and down again, and Kevin gripped the coarse fabric beneath him. His shirt was pushed up, for some reason. Garrett liked his chest and stomach, and everything else apparently. 

“Oh,” Kevin groaned. “TG, TGIF,” he grinned, closing his eyes. “I like that.”

Garrett sat back and began to fist Kevin’s cock, his other hand snaking into his own pants. 

“Come up here,” Kevin said with half-lidded eyes. “I wanna tell you something.” 

Garrett muttered something and climbed up, half hard cock brushing against Kevin’s thigh. He maneuvered himself so he could straddle one leg while pressing another against Kevin’s dick. 

“What?” Garrett asked and began unbuttoning his shirt. “What’s so important this time—wait a minute.” Garrett inched his face closer. Kevin blinked and kept smiling. 

“Do your glasses not have any lenses?” 

“No, they kept getting dirty. So I took them out.” 

Garrett fell silent for a moment then asked, “You wanted to tell me something?”

Kevin smiled and cupped the back of Garrett’s head with his right hand. Gently, he brought their lips together. He liked kissing this tour guide guy, this Garrett, or TG. Or TGIF. Kevin liked him. 

He turned his head and deepened the kiss, guiding Garrett so he was fully straddling him. Kevin then reached down, roughly gathering both their cocks in one hand. Their pre-cum was enough for him to get a decent rhythm, so Kevin didn’t hesitate. Garrett broke the kiss and let out something between a gasp and a groan, hips jerking involuntarily forward. 

“I wanted to tell you,” Kevin said in a low voice, “That your eyes remind me of my favorite slushie.”

Garrett laughed and wrapped his arms around Kevin’s neck, hips continuing to spasm. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” 

Kevin hummed in response and felt himself edging closer, but no sooner had he realized this when Garrett’s cock sputtered. Two loads landed on Garrett’s partially unbuttoned shirt, the other dripped down over Kevin’s knuckles. The sight and sounds of Garrett drove Kevin over; only he shouted and thrust more frantically into his own fist, against Garrett’s softening cock. 

“Fuck,” Garrett mumbled, lips suddenly on Kevin’s neck. “ _Fuck_ , oh my God. _Jesus_ , Kevin.”

Kevin’s back and legs straightened, thighs shaking. He moaned, letting off his own load over himself, maybe on Garrett. He couldn’t tell. Garrett’s body was lucid but bent forward, keeping his face tucked to that particular spot between Kevin’s neck and shoulder. Kevin didn’t mind.

His body gave out soon after, collapsing back into the couch, 

“Wow,” he whispered and felt his hands slide down to Garrett’s hips. 

“Yeah,” Garrett said, muffled from Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin squeezed his hips affectionately. They were lean but bony, and Kevin couldn’t get enough of them. 

“I like your name,” Kevin said quietly, turning to kiss Garrett’s ear. “And I like your ears too. And everything else.”

“Good to know,” Garrett said and shifted closer into Kevin’s warmth. “And uh, about before, I didn’t mean what I said. You know, about you being stupid,” he mumbled. “I think you’re different, maybe an idiot, but not in a bad way.” 

Kevin grinned. 

“I am different, that’s what my _fellow_ Ghostbusters tell me all the time.”

“I’m sure,” said Garrett. He pulled away took look at the other man. Kevin was still wearing that same, charming smile. 

Their breathing was just settling when the florescent overhead lights flickered. Both Kevin and Garrett’s gaze carried from each other, to the ceiling, then back to each other. The lights stayed on for at least thirty more seconds, before flickering again. 

“Wanna go back to where I work? I kind of live at the Ghostbuster HQ,” Kevin said, trying not to sound in a hurry. 

“Having someone else give me a tour sounds like a good change of pace,” Garrett quickly answered and glanced up one final time at the uneasy lights. 

The two dressed and stumbled out just as the front doors slammed shut, followed by an inhuman groan from deep within the mansion. 

Kevin tugged the stunned Garrett along the busy streets. He’d tell the other Ghostbusters what was up when they got back, and how Garrett had no other place to go, the latter which Kevin wasn’t sure about but it sounded legit. And on the way they’d stop and get some slushies and maybe a bag of jollyranchers.


End file.
